


Honor Among Hunters

by Ulaliae



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Bounty Hunter Ahsoka Tano, Canon Compliant, Found Family, Gen, Light Angst, enemies to reluctant comrades
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28616661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulaliae/pseuds/Ulaliae
Summary: Once a Jedi Padawan and now just another Coruscanti citizen, Ahsoka Tano’s future, and heart, are clouded. But a chance encounter sets her on a new path that walks the line between everything Ahsoka used to believe about right and wrong. Perhaps here, surrounded by those equally in the grey as she, a way forward and a new family await. Set between seasons 5 and 7, Ahsoka and Ventress team up as members of Boba Fett's bounty hunting syndicate.
Kudos: 20





	Honor Among Hunters

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I've never posted a fanfiction on here before and I'm a bit rusty with writing, but what the heck I need something productive to do besides rewatch Star Wars for the gazillionth time!
> 
> Ahsoka is in a bit of a dark place at the beginning of this, but I promise she doesn't stay there.

## One Month After

* * *

_"I understand. More than you realize, I understand wanting to walk away from the Order."_

_“I know.”_

She would always remember what it had felt like to turn her back and walk away from her home.

It had been one of those rare moments on Coruscant when the usual clouds of smog and pollution had lifted from the planet’s towers and domes just long enough to reveal a perfect, golden sunset. The sun’s rays bathed the buildings in a warm glow, and the light seemed to emanate from the structures themselves rather than from the sky. That high in the atmosphere the winds were a constant presence, but they stilled as Anakin called for her to wait. His footsteps pounded across the stone behind her, the sound mixing with the rush of her own beating heart. And though there was always traffic on a world with three trillion people, it was too early for workers to be going home for the day, so it had been strangely, reverently, quiet on the wide plaza. The Temple had been especially beautiful that day, making it even harder to leave behind, and making the moment stand out clearer in her memories. She wished it had been a grey day, like most every other day on Coruscant was, so she would not remember it so well now.

She remembered every step as she descended the Temple’s wide staircase. Anakin’s presence in the Force had lessened with each one, both a blessing and a curse. She could no longer feel his pain, filled with grief and a sense of abandonment at her choice. She could no longer feel him at all.

—the door to the pawnshop’s backroom squealed open and shut behind her, startling her and reminding her that she was at work and that she needed to fix that door. There was something in its mechanisms that made an obscene amount of noise when it was opened and closed. Not that it would matter. No one would thank her, no one would tell her they were proud of her, no one might even notice. At best, her boss, a stingy old Rodian named Grelald, would berate her for not fixing it fast enough. No, it was best to leave the door as it was.

It had been nearly a month since Ahsoka Tano had left her life as a Jedi padawan after the whirlwind events of her framing and exoneration from the bombing of the Temple. Even now it was hard to wrap her head around Barriss’ betrayal, the speed at which her fellow jedi had condemned her, and that she herself had walked away from everything that she had ever known.

It had been hard at first. Ahsoka hadn’t known what to do, where to go. All her friends and allies were on the surface, in the Temple. She supposed she could have gone to Padme Amidala, or Riyo Chuchi, or even Lux Bonteri, and they would have gladly offered her a position in their security forces or as an aide. But being in the Senate, around all those people who reminded her of the Order, and probably running into Anakin considering how much time he spent visiting Padme, would have been too painful. Ahsoka had meant what she’d said to Anakin, on the steps of the Temple. She needed to figure this out alone, and that meant removing herself from everything that reminded her of her old life.

Grelald’s pawnshop was certainly far enough removed from her life at the Jedi Temple.

It was located a bit more than halfway below Coruscant’s surface, closer to the lower levels and the criminals and gangs that existed there than the sky and towering buildings of the wealthy above. Ahsoka was sure that Grelald dabbled in the black markets—just enough to keep him relevant, but not so much that he might attract the authorities or too many of the wrong sort. The store, already tiny, was made even more claustrophobic by the amount of junk that the Rodian had managed to cram into the space. Shelves rose to the ceiling with barely enough room for even Ahsoka to slip between them, and on them was every kind of useless item you could think of. Old parts for droids that had long since stopped being produced, busts of senators that no one remembered, broken musical instruments that didn’t so much as squawk anymore, rusted blasters that might explode when you shot them, a Wookie skull (which made Ahsoka flinch every time she had to dust it), Dejarik boards whose holographic images flickered like the strobe lights in the nightclub down the street, and more every time Ahsoka looked.

The shop’s display windows hadn’t been changed for years, though Grelald still groused at Ahsoka to dust them, as if someone would walk by the store and see something they absolutely needed. Ahsoka doubted it. Yet, the shop had customers. It was a steady trickle all day, and most everyone bought something. You didn’t just go into a store like Grelald’s without needing something. It was a last resort. Sometimes it was the too poor or desperate to go anywhere else, most of the time it was the petty criminals who she knew would use the items for their own, illegal purposes. Grelald never asked questions. A purchase was a purchase, and what happened afterwards was not his responsibility.

Ahsoka tried not to think about it too much, even though her training screamed at her to investigate. She wasn’t a peacekeeper anymore, if she had ever been one in the first place. It was not her place to take the law into her hands. Her work was monotonous, and she tried to lose herself in it.

“What am I paying you for, girl? Quit playing on that datapad. Clean some shelves. Help some customers. Useless togruta, waste of my money.” Grelald sneered over her shoulder at the cracked screen of the datapad. She knew that he knew that she was updating it, removing malware, making it more purchasable, but it gave him a power trip to order her around. Ahsoka rose from her place behind the counter—filled with jewelry which she was sure had been out of fashion for fifty years or more—careful not to sigh or roll her eyes lest she give Grelald another reason to nitpick. He was her employer, and she was just a togruta girl, alone and down on her luck. She needed this job.

There was only one customer in the store, and she looked at Ahsoka suspiciously when asked if she needed help finding anything. She left quickly afterwards, without making a purchase. If anything, Ahsoka’s question about what she was looking for had made the woman less likely to buy. The door chimed as the woman left, and a breath of foul, fume-filled air wafted in. There were filters and fans everywhere this far down, but they were cheap and badly maintained. They pushed the dirty air around instead of cleaning it; Ahsoka didn’t think she’d taken a good, deep breath of air for the whole month she’d been below the surface.

At least she could clean these shelves, dusting and organizing and straightening objects as much as she could. Grelald’s store was noticeably cleaner, and caused less customers to sneeze, than it had been a month ago. Ahsoka took some little amount of pride in that, and though she hated Grelald and his store, she was grateful for this job. The Rodian had asked her no questions about her past and for no references when she’d applied. It kept her busy, and the money was just enough to keep her in a small apartment and pay for her food. That was all anyone needed.

She picked up a soft, grey dust cloth and began at the spot on the shelves she’d stopped yesterday. She kept her mind blank as she worked, never letting it stray from the task at hand to all those memories, what-if’s, and thoughts of self-doubt. To avoid those, Ahsoka focused her thoughts only on the items she dusted. She spent an excruciating amount of time scrutinizing every scratch, every ding, every label scrawled in Grelald’s loopy hand writing on each piece of merchandise her cloth passed over. There was always something new to find. It was a kind of meditation, though she had been taught that true meditation was just as introspective as it was extrospective. Reflection brought too much pain.

The cloth passed over a stack of antique post cards. Idly, she picked them up and shuffled through them. They were yellowed with age, their corners frayed and torn, but they still offered decent artist’s renditions of famous Coruscanti locations. There was the Senate Building, Monument Plaza, the Republic Military Operations Center.

The Jedi Temple.

Ahsoka’s heart panged as homesickness rushed through her, though she tried to suppress it. What made it worse was the knowledge that she could return anytime she wanted, and be welcomed back with open arms. Yet Ahsoka knew she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she did. Barriss’ betrayal had hurt, but her treatment by the Council had been even worse. The Council didn’t trust her, so how could she trust herself? Masters she’d fought alongside and learned from, who had raised her, had believed that she could fall so far as to hurt innocent people. Only Anakin and Master Plo Koon had stood by her, though they were held back by the commands of the Council. If she returned now when these feelings of betrayal and anger were so strong in her, she would never be the same jedi she had been before it all.

The door opened again, and at its soft chime Ahsoka stirred. She’d been staring at the postcard for several long moments. She laid the postcards back in their place, the Jedi Temple on the bottom of the stack this time, and went back to her dusting.

“Togruta! Customer!” Grelald hollered from the counter, and as she was behind some shelves and out of view Ahsoka allowed herself a sigh. She fixed a customer-friendly smile on her face and turned, ready to offer assistance that would probably be rejected.

Her cheery greeting caught in her throat.

Backlit in the harsh neon light of the street signs outside was a silhouette that Ahsoka knew all too well. Skinny in a way that made the definition of her muscles surprising, so tall that the top of her shaved head nearly brushed the doorframe, the cut of her jaw and cheekbones so sharp they could have sliced through metal. She stood squinting into the shop’s interior, her hands on her hips and shoulders thrown back in a pose that told any who saw her: _Don’t fuck with me._

Asajj Ventress.

Ahsoka reached for her lightsabers, before remembering that she no longer had them. She was completely defenseless.


End file.
